I've Loved You So Long
by JoBethMegAmy. my homegirls
Summary: An alternate ending to 2x15, which basically centers around the opposite of what happened: How would Maura react if Doyle had shot Jane?
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere along the line, time had split the atom.

Everything happened so frighteningly fast, yet at the same time, it all somehow moved with a profound slowness. Emotions went pummeling through Jane faster than she could keep track of them all as hell broke loose around her. Their prime suspect pulled a gun on Maura. But before he could pull the trigger, he was shot down himself, drawing all eyes in the building to see where the bullet had come from. It was Doyle, standing a story above them with his gun drawn. Jane knew he would be there as soon as she saw Dean, who she felt sincerely shocked to see had broken his word. _I should've known better than to blow off steam to a federal agent_. Her regret was too late.

"Drop your weapon, Doyle!"

"Gabriel, no!"

But he ignored her, and shot to kill, but his aim was off. Clearly not having expected the attack, Doyle was still able to deliver retribution, firing back at Dean without hesitation. Jane and Frost ran into view, both momentarily thrown and not sure exactly what action to take. Frost was visibly nervous and on instinct cocked his gun, praying that would be enough to cool Doyle's heels.

Jane's throat felt completely dry as she hoarsely called out, "Frost, get down!"

Doyle was too far away to be able to clearly make out his expression, but Jane could see he was preparing to fire back at Frost if necessary. As a precautionary tactic, and with her gun still raised, Jane rammed herself sideways into Frost to get him out of the way—and a second was all it took. She had overestimated Doyle, hoping that he wouldn't fire at Frost, someone who had been trying to protect his daughter. It was Frost's initiative that had worried Jane—if he was the first one to fire, all bets on Doyle's behavior would be off.

But she had to admit, she was overcome just as much with shock as she was with pain when she felt Doyle's bullet collide with her chest. Her eyes screwed shut instantly on contact, and she stumbled back onto the rubble-filled floor. Someone—it must have been Frost—was instantly at her side, exerting pressure on her while he shouted into his phone for Korsak to call an ambulance. Now he was urgently trying to talk to her, but Jane couldn't hear anything except the piercing cry of "_no!_" that had come from Maura's direction. Frost kept telling her to breathe deeply; he didn't understand that each time she tried, she felt a razor-sharp pain near her collar.

Then a softer pair of hands latched onto her, and Jane forced herself to look. Frost and Maura were bent over her on opposite sides, but Jane had eyes only for Maura—poor Maura, covered in grime and tears and clearly scared out of her mind.

"Where's…Doyle?" Jane choked out. The question only made Maura cry harder, and as nice as it was to have her so close by, Jane wished she would back up a bit. She could tell she was going to black out soon, and was frankly grateful for it as the word "pain" was no longer feeling sufficient to describe what she was currently going through. "Please—Maura, I'm gonna be fine…"

She lost consciousness moments later, and was thus unable to hear the next exchange between Maura and Frost.

"Detective Frost, you need to promise me something."

"What is it?"

"The next time you see Doyle, don't hesitate."

* * *

><p>Visiting hours were over, and as Maura wasn't a family member, it was back home to a big empty house for her. Just like last time. Angela would insist on staying at the hospital all night long by Jane's side. Just like last time. Maura didn't begrudge Angela this opportunity, but she did envy it. After all, <em>she <em>had been the one who had to watch that bullet go through Jane, the one who saw her fall, the one who was there when her eyes shut for an what felt like an eternity. Just like last time.

Last time, Jane had shot a renegade cop through herself to save her brother's life. Maura very distinctly remembered that in spite of all the grisly scenarios she had watched unfold and all the various gory, bloodied bodies it had been her job to analyze, watching Jane shoot herself had felt like watching a movie. Her eyes sent the message to her brain, but she could not accept what she was seeing as reality simply because she did not want it to be reality. With heartbreaking clarity she recalled how Jane's last few conscious moments had been spent looking directly into Maura's eyes and limply reaching out for her. Maura was only grateful that today, she had made it to Jane's side in time, that Jane had more supportive arms around her than those of a dead murderer. In both instances, it hadn't mattered that Maura knew the chances of Jane surviving the gunshot wound was overwhelmingly in her favor at over seventy percent. Rationale couldn't save her from the fallibility that hits every human being when someone they love is hurt, and they automatically assume the worst.

Pulling into her driveway, Maura was unsurprised to realize she had been crying softly all the way home. With all the things she had witnessed in the last few years, it was a wonder that anything _could _surprise her anymore.

And so when she walked inside and saw Paddy Doyle sitting at her dining room table, she was taken aback only at the realization that she had been expecting to see him there.

Unfortunately for Doyle, this did not translate into a positive attitude. "Get the hell out of here, you bastard."

"Let me explain, Maura."

"There is _nothing _to explain! I should've known better than to take your word—you said you never killed women, or people who didn't deserve what they had coming to them—Jane wasn't going to do anything to you!"

"She's a cop. She had a gun."

"She would've only used it in self-defense!"

Doyle stood up and walked around the end of the table, sighing gruffly as Maura backed towards the island in the kitchen. "Don't get hysterical."

"Don't you dare condescend to me!" Maura growled, grabbing one of the larger and more dangerous looking knives from the topmost drawer.

Doyle had to work hard to fight a smirk. The idea of Maura trying to fend him off with a knife was certainly amusing, but he knew this was hardly the time to mock her. "I didn't want to shoot Jane. I was taking a warning shot at that guy who cocked his gun. Or didn't you notice that I was attacked first?"

"The man who shot at you was a federal agent, and the man you claim to have been aiming for was Jane's partner!"

"_Claim_? Maura, I thought were starting to understand me. You're the only thing in my life more important to me than my job. You have a dangerous career, and regardless of what you say, I know you can't protect yourself all the time—and unless I want to get caught, I can't be around to protect you. You think I'd even entertain the idea of trying to kill the one person I _know _would give up her life to save yours?" He walked closer, knowing he had Maura's full attention, even if she was still clutching the knife. She was stymied, at least for the moment, and Doyle continued: "It's my main goal in life to see you safe, and to see you happy. I couldn't live with myself if I killed the woman you love."

Maura's mouth dropped slightly as this statement, but she quickly clenched it shut again. "You don't know anything about me," she whispered. "I know, you have photos, but that's all. That's all you've got as proof, and it's pretty meager. If I were more important to you than your job, you would've done something legitimate with your life when I came into it. You gave me away."

"I didn't know how to take care of you."

"How _could _you know if you didn't at least try?" Maura asked. "Jane's my best friend, and you're right, she _would _do what it takes to make sure I'm all right. She doesn't worry me, like you do. She always does the right thing."

Surveying his daughter through narrowed eyes, Doyle asked, "You sure Jane is just your best friend?"

"What're you talking about?" Maura acidly shot back.

"I think you know what I'm talking about."

Maura dropped the knife against the island with a clatter. "You've got some nerve, Patrick Doyle. You really do. I mean I knew you had to possess some amount of _guts_, Jane would say, to go around doing the things you do. But I'm honestly floored that you would break into my home and have the audacity to try and have this conversation with me after what you did today."

"I wanted to stop by the hospital and see her," Doyle said. "But I knew you'd be there, and I knew this time I wouldn't be able to stop you from screaming, or telling someone who I really was. That's why I had to come here."

"What, you want me to tell Jane you're sorry you could've killed her?" Maura asked darkly.

"No. You don't have to tell her anything, although it'd be the truth to say I didn't mean that bullet for her."

"Why'd you have to come here? Why did you come here?"

Taking a step back, Doyle muttered, "I dunno." He grimaced and reached for his clumsily bandaged shoulder, a move which elicited no sympathy from Maura. As far as she was concerned, he'd deserved what he'd gotten. Did he expect her to be moved by his showing up at the factory that day? She had no doubts whatsoever that Jane would have protected her from any harm. She didn't need Doyle.

"Leave," she said in a gravelly voice. "Now. Before I call the police."

"Wouldn't do you any good," Doyle said. "I'd be gone before they got here."

"Jane's brother is a cop," Maura said, nodding in the direction of the guest house. "He's been staying with me while he waits for the lights in his new apartment to get turned on. I'm sure he'd love to say hello to you." Her arms were tightly folded and she forced herself to sound smooth. It was a white lie—Frankie was a cop, but not the brother who had just moved out of the guest house. As long as Doyle didn't push it, she ought to be all right. She felt a small thrill of victory as Doyle grimaced again and headed for the door. "When you leave, I don't ever want to see you again," she said.

Doyle hesitated by the door. "I understand," he said. "Even though what happened today was an accident, I can see why you'd be angry. I hope someday, once Jane recovers, you'll be able to forgive me."

"Don't hold your breath."

"Let me say one thing."

"What, more fatherly advice?"

"Shut your damn mouth for a second, Maura," Doyle said, and this sudden rudeness indeed got her to be quiet. "I know you think I'm a low-life scumbag, and I know I'm not the fancy, educated guy your adopted father is. But that doesn't mean I don't know anything about the human heart or emotions. I know that Garrett Fairfield guy you used to be involved with. Didn't work out, did it?"

"Yes, well, he turned out to be a murderer. Like you."

Appearing unruffled by this, Doyle said, "Doesn't matter. You liked his type. I can tell you right now that I won't stand for it if you marry some guy that's just rich and has nothing else to offer you. I won't allow you to marry a man who's going to have his secretary send you flowers and write you something nice on your birthday. You've gotta have someone who'll swim rivers for you, climb high mountains for you. They've got to perform great deeds for you and cherish you, and realize what a gift and blessing it is you have in their life. She's gotta slay dragons for you. Don't you settle for anything less."

Maura was so stunned by this proclamation that she had barely registered the shift in pronouns. All she knew was that all of a sudden Doyle was gone, and she collapsed into one of the living room chairs.

She had been so sure that Doyle knew nothing about her, that all he had were photographs of various important ceremonies and events of her life. That alone implied a certain distance. How could he know anything of her true feelings, her true desires? And yet tonight he had proven that he knew his daughter more deeply than she had ever imagined. He had picked up on her unspoken need for her friendship with Jane to be something greater, something more meaningful. Now all she wanted more than anything in the world was the bravery to tell Jane about it.


	2. Chapter 2

__**A/N**: Sorry this took so long to update! I realized after I published it that while I liked the idea of this story, I wasn't really sure how to go about developing it. So in other words, it's going to be short. Meanwhile, please indulge me in my melodrama.

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><p><em>Frankie was the one who called her with the news. "Maura?"<em>

_ "What is it? You sound worried."_

_ "It's Jane. She…she didn't make it." Maura couldn't bring herself to say anything as the shock consumed her, eating her from the inside out. She held the phone to her ear for several long moments, waiting for words to come to her, but her mind was a blank. Seeming to understand, Frankie eventually said, "I don't know what to say either, Maura. I'll hang up now… just call us when you feel up to it." _

_ When the line cut off, Maura sat numbly back down on her couch, trying vainly to process what she had just heard. Jane was dead. Jane Rizzoli was dead. Nothing could bring her back… and Maura's father had done it. Maura felt a chill come over her, and she hugged herself to fight off the cold and the shaking and the bile fighting its way up her throat. Jane is gone, she told herself. Jane is gone…_

_ She would never hear that beautiful voice again. She would never cause that sweet laughter again. She would never feel that warm embrace, see those scars, witness that courage, experience that loyalty, admire that walk, or look into those eyes ever again. Jane was entirely gone. Her one true friend, her greatest champion, and her fiercest love had been taken out in one shot. _

_ Maura tried to tell herself it was impossible. She could have sworn that bullet only pierced Jane's shoulder, and an ambulance had come readily enough to save Jane from bleeding out… hadn't it? Now the memory of yesterday seemed hazy somehow, and the more she thought about it, the more she believed she could remember Doyle aiming his gun at Jane and shooting to kill. Yes… that bullet had gone straight to Jane's heart, and Frankie's phone call was a mere formality. Of course Jane was gone. Thanks to Doyle, Maura would never see her again._

_ A blazing hatred swept over her then, chasing away the numb disbelief like fire. She hated Patrick Doyle more than she had ever thought possible, in that Maura had never thought she possessed the potential to feel any emotion so strongly as this. It was a good thing Jane had never taught her how to properly use a gun, because suddenly all Maura wanted to do was hunt Doyle down and shoot him like he'd shot Jane—cowardly, point-blank, needlessly. Jane had just been doing her job… she had been defending herself, her partner, and Maura… she didn't need to lose her life for that._

_ The worst part of this, she realized, was that she had no way of escaping her pain. In this situation, Jane might have taken up boxing to vent her emotions. An artist would paint, a musician would play the piano. What could Maura do—examine some dead bodies? Read a scientific journal? Jane had always been her sole confidant, but she couldn't ever be Maura's soundboard ever again. _

_ It was then that Maura realized she was crying heavily. "What do I do without you?" she whispered in a choked, strangled voice. _

_ The words echoed in her head and in the silent, empty house surrounding her. She drew her phone back out of her pocket, going to her contact list and pulled up Jane's information. There was a small photo of her that Jane herself had taken, raising an eyebrow and pretending to frown seriously. Despite her current despair, Maura had to laugh weakly. Then, perhaps foolishly and a little recklessly, Maura dialed Jane's cell phone number. She wondered after the fact whether Angela or Frankie had taken Jane's phone and seen Maura's number come up. But at the time, she didn't wonder if they'd answer. She cared only about hearing Jane's voice:_

_ "Hi, you've reached Detective Jane Rizzoli. I'm sorry to have missed your call, but if you'll leave a message with your name and number, I will get back to you as soon as I can." _

_ So impersonal. So professional. So not what Maura had hoped to hear. Not that it mattered anyway—this was just going to make her feel worse. Was this masochistic behavior? Probably, but that didn't stop Maura from remembering that she also had Jane's landline number. She wondered if it would be worth it to call that phone, because it seemed to her that Jane had been on the verge of getting rid of it. Maybe she already had, and just hadn't thought to tell Maura, so the number was still there on the doctor's phone. Trying not to think too much about it, Maura dialed it, and her efforts were rewarded:_

_ "Hey, this is Jane…but obviously you know that, because the only people who have this number are you, Ma, Pop, Tommy, and Frankie. No, Ma, I don't want to go shopping; sure, Pop, let's talk soon; no, Frankie, I can't just make you a detective since you're my brother; and Tommy, don't take this personally, but I prefer to walk Jo Friday myself. Please stop asking me. Oh, and Maura! You have this number, too. Well, whatever you're calling me for, the answer is yes." _

_ This was the only thing that could have made Maura weep even harder. It had reached the dramatic point of making it difficult for Maura to breathe properly, and she heard herself gasping for breath, choking on the misery of her own tears. Jane had needed her, had loved her, even if it was just as a best friend…_

_ The worst part of this was the horrible, gut-wrenching devastation of wishing she had at least once told Jane how she really felt. Even if she had just shared an inkling of that passion, that desire, that sheer want for their relationship to become something more, Jane might have done something about it. But Maura had put it off for too long, so sure that there would be time later, or that the opportune moment would arrive. Now Jane had died, had been killed in the line of duty, and she left this world without ever knowing... Maura knew she would have to reconcile Jane's death (Jane's murder) to herself if she wanted to go on functioning in life at all, but it was going to take an eternity to rid herself of that desperate, horrible pain of knowing she, Maura Isles, had never been brave enough to tell Jane how she really felt…_

Maura awoke with a start.

There was nothing to account for her sudden awakening; no thunderstorm, no alarm going off, no drilling outside, no ringing phone. Her eyes just shot open and she realized she was staring at her clock, clutching her bedspread tightly to her chest. It was just past seven-thirty in the morning, and the sun was barely starting to creep into her bedroom.

She wasn't sure why, but Maura rarely remembered her dreams. This one, though, had left her trembling in her bed, her heart pumping in fear. It slowly dawned on her that yes, that _had _been a dream. Maura reached for her phone and saw that there were no missed calls… one of the Rizzoli's would definitely have called during the night or the morning if Jane had died. Which of _course _she hadn't.

Maura almost felt like crying again, though this time with great relief: Jane was still alive.

However, this couldn't be the end of it. Maura knew there were still plenty of things she needed to confront, starting with the feelings her dream had stirred up. It was an entirely unavoidable truth that Doyle could have killed Jane. Sure it would have been unintentional, but he could in that moment have erased Maura's best source of happiness. Maura knew Jane's job was dangerous, and she hated having to remind herself that basically every day, there was a chance Jane could lose her life. But her blood would be on the hands of a stranger, of a potentially faceless, nameless, thug. Maura wouldn't ever be expected to forgive that person, or to express sympathy to them. She knew that in any instance, Jane would always be in the right. There was no way she could ever be killed by someone better than her, greater than her, more respectable than her.

But yesterday, Maura's father had come close. Not only had he shot Jane (although allegedly not on purpose); he had done it in plain view of his daughter. And, with another lurch of the stomach, Maura realized he had done so while knowing how much she loved Jane.

And that was her other problem. As soon as she realized Jane's death had been a horrible, horrible dream, Maura was struck by two immediate thoughts: _thank God she's not actually dead_, and _I still have a chance to tell her_. Yes… there was still hope. Maura now knew how greatly it would pain and destroy her if Jane were to die without ever knowing how deeply she was loved. Of course, Maura told herself, it was entirely possible, even probably, that Jane didn't reflect those feelings. Perhaps it could be as simple as "I just want to be friends," or… could it go worse than that? Might she be revolted that Maura even saw her that way? After all, the Rizzoli's were a Catholic family. There was a very good chance they would all be horrified and scandalized if Maura were to divulge this information.

So which, then, was worse? Never knowing, or being disappointed with the response?

Maura wearily got out of bed, knowing she had solved absolutely nothing and sort of hating herself for it. As she poured herself some coffee, she considered calling Jane's house phone for real, just to hear her voice and know that she was in fact alive. But then she remembered that in real life, Jane actually _had _disconnected her landline phone. That was something Maura figured she ought to do as well, because she couldn't remember the last time anybody had ever used it except solicitors. It was pointless. As this thought occurred to her, she spared the kitchen phone a glance, and noticed that a small "1" was flashing on the screen. She had a message?

Curiously, she walked over to the phone and picked it up, scrolling to see who had called the most recently. It was Jane, precisely one week ago. Wondering what on earth could have warranted a call to the phone Jane knew she never used, Maura pushed the button that would replay the message. She gave herself no time to debate whether she should feel nervous or excited, and just willed herself to listen anxiously:

"Hi Maura, it's Jane. Um…so we're at work, so I know you won't be picking up, and, God, I'm nervous, sorry… uh… geez, I don't know if you are even aware that you still _have _a house phone, but that's kind of what I'm banking on. I want to talk about something with you… it's important, but I'm really too—I'm such a coward, Maura, because I couldn't even bring this up in person, I… I dunno, it could be a month or a year until you realize I left this message, or maybe you'll see it tomorrow, or tonight! Oh, God, I hope not. I need more time than that. Anyway, uh… whenever you _do _hear this, please let me know. I'm not going to bring it up until you tell me you got this message. Okay? Okay. Bye, pal."

For a long time after the message had ended, Maura stood rooted to the same spot in front of the machine. Typical Jane—rambling and not very clear. It was cryptic, and yet it wasn't, unless Maura was reading something into it that she wanted to. She replayed the message twice more, getting increasingly fretful each time. What had Jane wanted to tell her? With everything that had transpired since this message, would Jane still _want _to have it brought up?

Maura turned and went back to the kitchen island, leaning against for support. Would Jane even want to see her after what had happened? It was, after all, Maura's father who had nearly killed her… could Jane forgive her? Could she ever look at Maura without seeing Doyle, without being afraid? How much would this change everything? Her head was swimmingwith contradictory thoughts and feelings, and she wondered how people could ever handle running on their emotions all the time. She could almost feel a migraine coming on.

After nearly thirty more minutes of internal agony, Maura realized her cell phone was ringing. Nearly tripping over Bass, she sprinted to her bedroom to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Maura?" It was Frankie.

"Yes, how—what's going on, how is Jane?" _Oh please, please don't tell me you have bad news… _

"Uh, Jane's gonna be okay. She's gonna be all right."

"Oh, thank God…" Maura sank onto her bed in relief, putting a hand over heart in a silly attempt to calm it down. "Frankie, I was so…" Well, maybe telling him about that dream wasn't such a good idea. "I was so worried."

"Yeah, we all were," he said fervently. "But she just woke up, and we all got to talk to her and…"

"She seems all right psychologically?"

"Yes, yeah, she does."

"I'm so—oh, I'm so glad."

"Yeah, us too."

A long pause followed, as if Frankie was hesitant to divulge whatever was on the tip of his tongue. "Frankie?" Maura asked. "Is there… anything else?"

"She said she wants to see you."

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><p><strong>AN**: Reviews are the best kind of love.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Thanks for the support, everyone! Just one more chapter after this, I think. Then it's back to work on the Bones/R&I crossover, and hopefully the AU I've been getting off the ground. Also, I posted a new video today, so if you'd like to check it out, that'd really make my day! :)

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><p>Jane perked up a little in bed when Frankie walked back into the room, looking as uncertain as he had upon leaving it a few minutes ago. When he mumbled that Maura was on her way, Jane was immediately grateful that she wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor, because she knew the instrument would betray her heartbeat's sudden spike. She wasn't even entirely sure why it had started pounding so hard; after all, she had been the one to ask Maura to come. Was she afraid? Was she excited? Upset, happy?<p>

"Hon?" Angela asked. "Are you all right? You look stressed."

"Well, Ma, as you may or may not recall, I _was _shot yesterday," Jane said.

Angela gave her a vaguely annoyed look. "I meant your expression. Are you sure it's a good idea for Maura to come over here?"

"Of course it is, why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, you know…I just want to make sure you didn't ask her over just to chew her out."

"Chew her out? What for?"

Gesturing to Jane's heavily bandaged shoulder, Angela said, "Her father is responsible for this!"

"Ma, if you're gonna talk like that, I want you to leave before she gets here," Jane said shortly.

"Oh, sweetheart, you know I don't mean anything against _Maura_," Angela sighed. "I adore that girl. But she may feel guilty for what happened is all I'm saying."

Jane looked over at her brothers, who were both standing on either side of Angela. "You guys don't think that, do you?"

Frankie shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Tommy just folded his arms and shook his head. "No way. Maura's not her dad, she's not close to him. She knows you well enough to know that you won't hold her accountable for what he did."

"I still can't believe he did it at all," Jane admitted. "I mean, I thought he…" She trailed off, not sure how to finish that thought. Liked her? Respected her? No… it was more like he needed her. The last time he'd seen her, he had asked her to take care of Maura. Why, then, would he have taken a shot at her? _He could've killed me_, Jane thought dumbly to herself. And although it was terrible and a bit stupid of her, she couldn't keep her imagination from jumping into overdrive and visualizing Maura weeping over her lifeless body, vowing revenge on Paddy Doyle.

Frankie pulled her out of this romantic reverie: "You know, maybe we should go anyway." Jane looked at him, and he knew this was what she really wanted, but had felt bad asking for it. "I mean, so you and Maura can talk alone."

Angela looked like she was about to protest, but Tommy put an arm around her shoulder and started steering her out of the room. "Come on, Ma, Janie's survived worse. Let's get some breakfast, huh? You haven't eaten in like, fifteen hours."

"You guys haven't eaten? Yeah, go, go on," Jane said, waving them away.

Tommy and Angela (still under slight protest) left, but Frankie hung back a moment. "Don't worry about Maura," he said.

"I'm not," Jane insisted, sounding thoroughly unconvincing.

"It was hell, Jane," Frankie stated simply. "I mean, the last time you got shot on the job, I didn't have to see it. I wasn't conscious, either. But when Frost told us what happened, I ran in there and saw you, and…" Jane saw him twitch, as if reacting to a shiver that had just ran down his spine. "I think I knew in the back of my mind that you'd be okay, but I just immediately found myself assuming the worst. And Maura was there. She was holding you."

Jane forced herself to bite back the question "holding me how?" It was too embarrassing to ask, and without a concrete answer, she was again able to imagine various possibilities. But then Frankie, again just seeming to know what Jane needed, was able to answer her unasked query:

"I didn't even see you at first, because Frost was kneeling in front of your legs and Maura was like, uh, she had her arms around you and was just sort of hovering over you, like she was trying to protect you." There was more he could have said: Maura was sobbing like she'd lost a lover; when Frankie had come down by Jane's head, Maura had flinched and held Jane closer to her before realizing it was Frankie; she had needed Frost's help in getting to her feet once the ambulance had arrived …but these were details he felt were a bit more private. He saw another unasked question in Jane's eyes, and tried to answer it: "Just be nice to her when she gets here."

"Of course I will, Frankie. _I'm_ the one who asked _her_ to come, remember?"

He nodded and started backing out of the room. "Right, right. Well, I'll go down and wait for her to get here. Tell her where to go."

"Thanks, Frankie."

That old anxiety was creeping in again, and Jane had nothing and nobody around to distract her. She stared up at the television, but didn't feel like turning it on. The pain in her shoulder was surprisingly dull, perhaps overshadowed by Jane's nervousness. She tried to come up with a game plan, but psyched herself out in the process. What on earth to say to Maura? What would Maura be expecting when she got here? Had it been rash to ask her to come? _Stop thinking so hard, Rizzoli! Just figure out what you're going to say. Hi, Maura_. _What's up? …okay, that was la_me. _Oh yeah, I'm fine. No big deal. Yeah, smooth. Hey, so, I'm sort of in love with you? Is that a question? For the love of God, Rizzoli, STOP!_

Her thoughts indeed had no choice but to come to a screeching halt when Maura appeared suddenly in the doorway. Jane felt as though her heart may have stopped as well, as heavy sense of waiting passed between the women. As always, Maura looked breathtaking, and Jane couldn't get her fill of looking at her: she was wearing a pale blue dress that played up her more feminine qualities, but on her way out the door, she'd thrown on a black leather jacket. It wasn't quite Mad Max in appearance (this was Maura Isles, after all), but it leant a sort of tough feeling to her. Jane could envision Maura protecting her in that jacket, going into mama bear mode. _Wait, mama bear, whose thing was that? Sarah Palin's? Oh God, why am I thinking about Sarah Palin right now?_

"Hey," Jane finally said, mostly to try and initiate anything that would get Palin out of her head.

Instead of giving Jane some kind of verbal response, Maura stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She took the few steps necessary to reach the chair closest to Jane's head and collapsed into it, visibly trembling. On her way over to the hospital, Maura had tried to collect herself and her thoughts, to remind herself that injuries like this always looked worse than they really were. But she had forgotten and underestimated the heartache of seeing Jane lying in a hospital bed (even propped up), bandaged and looking exhausted. Maura couldn't bring herself to say anything, mostly because like Jane, she had no idea where to start. Her chin and lower lip were quivering as if she was about to burst into tears at any moment.

"I feel okay," Jane said, wishing she could come up with something more profound or at least comforting. At the moment, her priority was just to fill up the silence, so she kept on with her bland words. "Really, I'll be fine. I've been in worse scrapes than this. I just feel really tired for some reason."

With a short burst of aggravated breath, Maura said, "How can you just sit there and say that? How can—how can you even look at me?"

"Maura, what're you talking about?"

"My father did this to you!" Maura cried, tears stinging her eyes.

Jane couldn't believe her mother had been right. "Maura, Doyle isn't you. What happened is not your fault."

"He was there to protect me, it _is_ my fault."

"Don't say that. _I_ was there to protect you."

She wasn't really sure what had caused her to say that. Technically she'd been there to catch a criminal, but what had really got her blood going was the fear that Maura might get hurt. Sending her out to do this job alone had been incredibly risky, but the only way of getting the bad guy. Maura also looked a little confused by the sentiment, and ignored it.

"Doyle—came to see me that night."

Jane sat up straighter. "What? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I just told him to get out. He wanted to tell me that he didn't mean to shoot you."

"Huh…"

"That he was aiming for Frost."

"Oh." This actually made a lot of sense: Frost had had his gun pointed at Doyle, so Doyle was only defending himself …then Jane had pushed Frost aside, and it had taken only milliseconds for that bullet to hit the wrong target. A chill ran through her at the thought: Frost could have died, but also, Doyle hadn't been aiming for her. She felt strangely… relieved?

"Jane, I don't…"

Jane reached for Maura's hand and grasped it tightly. The doctor inhaled sharply and looked Jane in the eye for the first time. Careful to maintain that contact, Jane said, "Please don't apologize again, Maura. Doyle did what he had to, and I got in the way. And I'm gonna be fine, really."

"It'll scar," Maura protested.

Chuckling, Jane said, "What else is new? It'll be a nice addition to my collection."

A long silence followed. Maura was unconsciously rubbing the back of Jane's hand with her finger, tracing designs that went nowhere. Jane fought the urge to close her eyes: she felt so peaceful, no longer tired from stress. Having Maura at her side, massaging her hand, seemed to be the most natural thing in the world. The only thing that was missing was just one more tiny step to intimacy, anything …a kiss anywhere… but how could she bring that up? She knew why she had wanted Maura the moment she woke up: she had wanted this. She needed her. She loved her. She didn't want that to be a secret anymore.

Then, Maura felt the words just come flowing out of her, unplanned and nervous: "I got your message."

"My message?" Jane asked, looking confused. After a moment or two of silent gazing into those soulful hazel eyes, Jane felt her own eyes widen. "Oh."

"What is it?" Maura asked quietly. When she saw a blush creep up on Jane's cheeks and the detective averted her gaze, Maura tensed. "Is it—bad?"

"I dunno," Jane said, breathing shallowly. "I can't, uh…" It was suddenly hard to think straight. These pent-up emotions had been snowballing inside of her for so long, but she still didn't feel to tell Maura everything. But she had to, now. Trying to talk her way out of explaining the message would be lame and only put off the inevitable.

"Please, just tell me," Maura begged softly.

Jane took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. "Would you come lie with me?"

"In the bed?"

"Yes, Maura, in the bed," Jane sighed, too tired to tease.

"Is…that allowed?"

"Of course it is. Just come up here."

Sparing a glance for the closed door, Maura hesitantly stood up and waited for Jane to inch over. Once there was enough room for her to feasibly fit, Maura took off her shoes and climbed awkwardly onto the bed. She settled herself in, wary of the light hairs on her arms brushing against Jane's. Part of her understood why Jane had done this: now they weren't looking each other in the eye. Both of them just stared straight upwards. It made talking bluntly much easier, at least in Maura's experience. She felt herself calmed slightly when Jane's hand blindly searched for her own, and their fingers interlocked.

Finally, Jane whispered, "Is there a word, a scientific word, for that feeling you get when you're leaning back in a chair, and for a second you're afraid you're going to fall, but you don't?"

Even though Maura knew exactly the sensation Jane was describing, she had no idea why it was being asked. "I don't think so, no."

"That's how I've been feeling about you lately."

Wondering if Jane's muscle relaxers were messing with her brain, Maura furrowed her brow. "What does that mean?"

"It means…I think it means…I'm crazy about you, Maura. You're on my mind all the time. When I'm not with you, I wish I was. When I _am _with you, I love that we can spend hours just talking, just being together." She gulped and shut her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was shallow and cracked with emotion: "I think it means I'm in love with you."

Maura turned her head to look at her, surprised to see that Jane's eyes were closed. Now Jane was the one who was trembling, and Maura wanted to say just the right thing, but her mind wasn't speaking to her right away. She shifted to lie on her stomach, carefully draping an arm around Jane's stomach and tucking her hand beneath Jane's shoulder blade. She lay her face against Jane's unwounded shoulder, inhaling deeply at the feeling of Jane's breath hitching beneath her.

"Jane, I've been waiting so long for you to say that."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Thank you for sticking with me, everyone! Here's the last chapter. Then it's back to that AU...

* * *

><p>"Frankie, give me your phone."<p>

"What? Ma, sh, we're gonna wake 'em up!"

"No we won't!" Angela hissed, reaching for Frankie's pocket, causing her son to dodge quietly out the way. He sighed heavily and handed his phone over to her. "I'm not gonna call anyone, I just wanna take a picture…"

It was hard to blame Angela; the sight before her was the Webster definition of a Kodak moment: Maura had shifted onto her side, one arm still lying across Jane's stomach, while her leg had moved slightly in position so that her shin crossed over Jane's. Jane meanwhile had snuck one arm underneath Maura, her hand resting at the doctor's hip, holding her close. Jane's head was inclined towards Maura (slightly more elevated thanks to her pillows), her mouth so close to the other woman's forehead that she might have just kissed it. This, at least, was what Angela told herself as she silently took a picture and backed out of the room.

About another half an hour passed before Jane started to stir. As she woke up, she came to the uncomfortable realization that her arm was asleep. Normally this might have been cause for annoyance, but since the source of discomfort was 116.8 pounds of Maura Isles resting on it, Jane could only smile. She hated to disturb the woman, but aside from the feeling that blood might never circulate in her arm again, she wanted Maura to wake up so they could talk. They hadn't discussed anything in enough depth yet…

_"I think it means I'm in love with you_."

_"Jane, I've been waiting so long for you to say that_._"_

_ Strangely, Jane felt relatively calm. "So…do you…"_

_ "I love you, Jane. I love you." _

_ Maura nuzzled into her more deeply, and Jane was grateful that the woman couldn't see her face. She had just inhaled deeply and was afraid she might cry. Somehow she was simultaneously overwhelmed by Maura's declaration and also not, as if she too had known it and had only been waiting to hear her say it. It sounded so right and so true. In the precious few moments Jane took to try and plan her next move or sentence, she had felt Maura's weight gradually become heavier—consciousness was seeping out of her, and tiredness struck Jane as well. _

_ Before succumbing to sleep, she had the strength only to say, "So glad… we're on the same page."_

Now awake but in her weakened state, it took more strength than necessary for Jane to move her arm underneath Maura, enough so that her fingers could reach the bare skin by the doctor's elbow. Jane gently stroked her, tracing small circles around Maura's elbow, hoping to rouse her out of her slumber. Maura shifted slightly but her eyes remained closed, until Jane whispered her name. One deep breath later, Maura's hazel eyes fluttered open, meeting Jane's lovelorn gaze.

She didn't even stop to think about it: she lifted her head the small amount needed that would allow her to catch Jane's lips in a kiss. Jane felt her eyes close and it was the most welcome feeling in the world. Maura's kiss was gentle yet deliberate, and she refrained from slipping in the tongue even as she sat up slightly, opening and closing her mouth against Jane's.

"Hi," she whispered once they had broken apart. She was now resting her weight on her elbow and smiling lightly, as if what had just happened was completely normal behavior for her and Jane.

"Hey," Jane murmured back, flexing her arm to try and get the feeling back into it. "Enjoy your nap?"

Maura chuckled, rolling her neck a bit. "I wasn't expecting that to happen, to be honest."

"To kiss me?" Jane asked, so anxious about it that she already forgot the question she had just asked.

"To fall asleep in your arms," Maura replied with a smile. She gave another small chuckle at the bashful grin this brought to Jane's face. "I quite enjoyed it, though. And that kiss, as well."

"Yeah, that was nice," Jane said, taking Maura's hand and interlocking their fingers.

"I think I get it now," Maura said.

"Get what?"

"What you meant earlier when you likened your feelings for me to that sensation you get when you're leaning back in a chair and afraid it's going to fall."

Jane groaned. "Oh geez, did I actually _say _that?"

"You certainly did," Maura laughed. "And now I get it. There is that split moment where you don't know if you're going to fall on your back, or if the chair is going to lean forward and right itself. Some infinitesimal movement that you often have no control over decides your ultimate fate. When you told me you were in love with me, you didn't know if I was going to return your feelings or if I'd let you fall flat on your back."

"Thank God you didn't leave me hanging long," Jane said, cupping Maura's face.

Maura turned to kiss Jane's scarred palm. "Thank God you finally said something."

Jane had to smile at that. "Yeah, really. How uh… how long have you felt this way about me?"

"Jane, I've loved you for so long," Maura whispered, leaning in to give her another kiss. She repositioned herself so that one leg rested between Jane's and she sort of hovered over the detective, careful to avoid her wounded arm and shoulder. It was probably unwise to be on top of her like this, but Maura figured that if Jane experienced any pain at all, she would let it be known. She seemed fine at the moment, scrunching the fingers of her free hand into Maura's silky hair, cuing Maura to moan into the kiss. "Mmm, Jane…"

"I wish one of us had said something before now," Jane breathed a few moments later, when they had broken apart again.

Turning to lie on her side again, Maura said, "I've wanted to Jane, so badly. I was just afraid to because I couldn't keep myself from picturing …well, something like this. You in a hospital, I mean. You work in an incredibly dangerous field, and you've come close to losing your life more than once. I thought if I were ever romantically involved with you, it would be impossible for me to recover if you… if something happened. But now I know that I wasn't doing myself any favors. When you were shot yesterday, even though I knew you would be all right, I felt apart. My whole world fell apart. It couldn't have possibly been more traumatic, and at that point we were just friends."

"I don't know if we were ever really _just _friends," Jane said with a crooked smile.

Reflecting the smile, Maura asked, "What's the difference between like and love?"

"They're the same, except when you're in love, you feel…sexier," Jane husked, getting a laugh out of Maura. When the amused sound had died out, Jane felt her own smile fade slightly. "Maura? Are you in on this?"

Maura tightened her hold on Jane's hand. "Completely. I won't ever let you fall."

"And I won't ever let your world fall apart. I will always fight to come back to you."

They lay there a short while longer, kissing each other slowly and exchanging more soft words and promises. After what may well have been another hour, it dawned on Jane that her family hadn't been in to see her since that morning. "I wonder if maybe we should tell Ma and my brothers about this…"

"Oh," Maura said, sitting up and reaching for her bag, which was on the chair nearest the bed. "I'm sure they'd like to check in on you, at least."

"I meant about you and me," Jane said, as Maura turned on her phone.

A moment later, Maura was laughing: Angela had texted her the photo of her and Jane sleeping. Showing the picture to Jane, she said, "I think they already know."

When Jane was released from the hospital, Maura had insisted she come stay at her house. There she'd have more space, more distractions from her recovering wounds, and the most attentive nurse possible. For several nights, Jane was reluctant to do more than kiss, because she was self-conscious about her inability to reciprocate anything Maura might do—if strained too much, pain would shoot down from her shoulder all the way down her arm to her dominant hand. Maura was very understand of this, but didn't see why it needed to keep her from being able to do what _she _could to Jane.

"There's one thing we haven't talked about," she said quietly one night, sitting by Jane on the couch. When the detective raised an eyebrow expectantly, Maura sighed shortly and said, "My father is the one who did this to you."

"Maura, we _did _talk about that already," Jane said patiently. "And I told you to please not feel guilty about it. It was an accident, like you said."

"Still," she murmured. "You have to at least appreciate or acknowledge my feeling somewhat responsible."

"No I don't. What you did that day was really brave—you risked your life to help us bring down a suspect."

Ignoring this, Maura said, "Let me make it up to you," then leaned in and started kissing Jane's neck. She couldn't suppress a grin as she felt Jane gulp nervously.

"Maura…come on, no…let's wait…"

"We've already waited," Maura whispered, planting a kiss on Jane's jaw. "For months we've waited."

"Let's wait until I get my strength back, until I can do something for you, too…"

"No," Maura said simply, kissing Jane on the mouth briefly to make a point. "You don't need to do that right away. Sweetheart, let me do what I can for you. Let me make love to you, please…" Jane squirmed, afraid to let Maura do this to her. It was almost scary how aroused she felt right now; heaven help her if Maura actually carried things further. "Come on," Maura pressed her. "You don't always have to be so focused on giving, Jane. Let me give. Let me."

Jane fully turned to face Maura. "Okay," she said in a tired voice.

Taking Jane's hand, Maura stood up and led her back to the bedroom. She closed the door softly behind them, then instructed Jane to lie down on the bed. Jane silently obeyed, trying to relax as she propped herself up against the pillows.

"Tell me what you want me to do," Maura said quietly.

Jane surveyed her for a few moments before answering. "What're you wearing under that top?"

It was a coral, button-up shirt that was a snug fit on Maura. "A white camisole."

"And nothing else?"

"No."

There was just enough light in the room for Maura to sense that Jane's jaw had tightened. "Okay. Just take the top off, then. Leave on the tank and your jeans."

Maura walked closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. She maintained eye contact with Jane as she slowly, agonizingly unbuttoned the shirt, before shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor. If the top had been a snug fit, it was nothing compared to the camisole, which left basically nothing to Jane's imagination. Through the sheer material, she could make out not only the precise shape of Maura's full breasts, but also how her nipples seemed ready to tear through that fabric.

"Dr. Isles," she said in a shallow voice.

Licking her lips, Maura moved closer, unzipping her designer jeans but leaving them on. She carefully straddled Jane's hips, then took Jane's left hand and guided it between her jeans and underwear. "Nobody's ever made me that wet before, Jane," she whispered.

"Jesus, Maur," Jane whimpered, curling her fingers against the soaked material of Maura's panties. She felt her own arousal spike accordingly and took a deep breath. This was exactly why she hadn't wanted to go so far yet: it'd be hell not to be able to reciprocate fully, to use her stronger arm to do what she really wanted to.

With enviable patience, Maura drew Jane's hand back out, interlacing their fingers as she leaned in for a kiss. She rested one hand firmly on Jane's hip, letting the other get wound in the detective's unruly hair as she deepened the kiss, sweeping her tongue into Jane's mouth. Maura tantalized her there a few moments longer before she moved her lips down to Jane's jawline, then her neck, then finally settling on her collarbone. Jane had screwed her eyes shut, her teeth gritted together to keep herself from rolling Maura onto her back and ravishing her. Already she could feel pain pricking at her shoulder as she grabbed two fistfuls of Maura's hair, gasping short and labored breaths.

Once sure she had left a mark on Jane's collar, Maura moved down again. Pulling herself out of Jane's grip, she tugged on the hem of Jane's shirt, involuntarily moaning at the sight of her sharply toned stomach and sculpted abs that were incrementally revealed to her. Maura became conscious of doing nothing but letting her lips and her tongue rake over that strong, tan skin and listening for Jane's stifled breathing. Her hands worked up and under Jane's back, and Jane lifted herself off the bed just enough for Maura's fingers to be able to toy with the hook of Jane's bra. After a brief struggle, Maura's efforts were rewarded, and she felt it unclasp.

She was about to not-too-delicately reach for one of Jane's breasts when they were interrupted by the worst timed phone call in the history of telecommunication.

"Don't you dare answer that," Maura whispered in a dangerously low voice, shifting back up to leave a long kiss on Jane's mouth.

"At least let me get it out," Jane said. Just a bit more to the left and that vibrating sensation would have been more than welcome; as it was, it was ticklish and annoying. She fumbled for a moment to get fish it out of her pocket, and once this was accomplished, was going to just toss it onto the floor. But she made the mistake of first glancing at the caller I.D., and sat up so fast that she nearly threw Maura to the floor. "It's Korsak, Maura, I gotta pick up."

"Jane…"

"He almost never calls—this has to be really, really important."

A woman in any other line of business might have pouted "more important than _me?_", but fortunately for Jane, Maura understood that "important" in this case might literally mean a matter of life and death.

"Korsak—what's up? …what? No, I'm fine, I just got back from, uh, doing some exercise," she said, glancing at Maura and trying to force her breathing back to normal. "Why're you calling?" As Korsak talked, her eyes widened, and her brow contracted. "How? …is he…? …yeah. Yeah, I'll tell her. Thanks, Korsak. …you too. Bye."

"What is it?" Maura asked as Jane closed the phone and lay it on the nightstand.

"It's Doyle," Jane said, studying Maura carefully for any nuanced reaction. "They got him."

"_Got _him?"

"He's alive," Jane assured her. "Apparently they intercepted a phone call and caught him on his way to another job."

"They intercepted a phone call?" Maura asked disbelievingly.

"That's what Korsak said," Jane muttered. She knew they were both thinking the exact same thing: if catching Patrick Doyle were as easy as intercepting a phone call, he would've been brought in way before now. He had let himself be caught. "Maura?" Jane asked nervously. The mood was definitely gone, but she was scared of what this new information might really mean for this woman.

Maura sat back on her heels, staring at a spot on the floor and trying quickly to process her emotions. After what felt like an aching eternity, she returned her gaze to Jane, to find those deep brown eyes looking concernedly back at her. "I'm glad."

"You are?"

"Yes. For everything he's done—not just hurting you—he deserves to be behind bars. He knows it and I definitely know it."

"Maura, you don't…"

"Sh." Maura leaned forward once more, leaving a short kiss on Jane's mouth before lying down beside her. "Don't worry about what this means for us. I don't need him, Jane. I have my mother and yours, and your brothers, to be my family." She lay an arm across Jane's stomach, pulling herself closer. "And I have you to protect me. I don't need him. He's served his purpose."

"And what purpose was that?" Jane whispered.

"He got me here."

"I guess that's true…technically if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't exist."

Maura smiled weakly against Jane's shoulder. "That's not what I meant. That night he came to see me… to explain what happened at the factory …he knew. He knew I wanted to be with you."

"Oh," Jane said softly.

"Bastard was right," Maura chuckled, though tears were stinging at her eyes. "Thank you, Jane."

"For what?"

"For everything. For making me know I can depend on you for everything that I need or could ever possibly want. For never making me doubt you or your motives or what you do. Thank you for loving me and being able to show me in a human way."

Jane kissed her forehead. "Aw, babe." She put an arm clumsily around Maura's neck, hugging her close. "Thank you for making it so easy."


End file.
